


Nowhere Man

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fat Shaming, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: Rated T for language----John thinks he's fat, but Paul is the ever amazing friend he is.
Relationships: John Lennon & Paul McCartney
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	Nowhere Man

**Author's Note:**

> (I don't know how pants sizes work)

Brian ran in the door, throwing four suit bags down onto the counter. George only stared at them as crumbs fell from his mouth, another bite of his sandwich gone. 

“What are those?” Paul asked, pouring tea into a small white cup in front of him.

“Your new suits.” The four Beatles said nothing, so Brian opened his mouth to explain. “Look, your grey ones just didn’t look right on stage, so we got you some new ones. They’re a bit darker.”

“Oh, Thank god,” Ringo said with a sigh. “I was afraid people were starting to notice my sweat stains.”

“Nobody’s looking, mate,” John replied, a grin played across his face. 

“Hey! I may not be Paul McCartney, but I’m at least ten times as attractive as you, John.” He turned to his side and sucked in his stomach, placing a hand over it, and John’s grin faded. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Paul looked over at John to see how his mood had completely changed. “Hey, what’s the matter, John love?”

“Nothing. Why?” When Paul said nothing in return, John jumped up and started to flip through the suits. “Which one’s mine? I’m gonna go try it on real quick.”

Brian handed him one of the suit bags, and he was out of the room within seconds. While the others didn’t say anything about it, Paul was getting a little worried. He knew that when John got like this, avoiding people and not talking much, it was never good.

It wasn’t for another few minutes that any of them even thought of it. In fact, it wasn’t until they heard a thud.

“What was that?” Brian asked as if the others knew, but they all shrugged their shoulders. Paul decided to go back to his magazine, but when he looked over at Brian again, the older man’s eyes bore into him. He moved them off of the bassist to glance at the hall John disappeared down and then back to Paul.

Paul knew that he was just trying to get him to check on John, because God knew Paul was the only one he was even likely to open up to, and that thud meant something was definitely wrong. Paul hesitantly got up and started on his way over to the hall.

When he saw the bathroom door closed, he knocked softly. “Johnny? You in there?” There was no answer, so he turned the knob to find it was unlocked. “John, I’m coming in.”

He wasn’t quite prepared for what he saw when he stepped in. John was in his underwear, his suit at the bottom of the tub, crinkled into a little ball and soaking wet. The older man was sitting on the toilet with his head in his hands, and when he heard the door open, his eyes darted up.

“Paul? What are you doing here?”

“I’m just checking on you.” Paul’s eyes drifted to the suit in the tub. “What’s going on?”

John huffed and stood, trying to push the bassist out, but Paul turned around and quickly closed the door so that he wasn’t able to. This caused the older of the two to throw his fist at him, but he collapsed to the floor much before it even made contact with Paul.

“John, what the fuck?” Paul got down onto the ground, sitting his friend up against the wall. “Hey, what are you doing? Did you try to bloody punch me?”

“Yes, you don’t need to see me like this. I want to put clothes on my fucking body.”

Paul nodded. “Go ahead, but you know as much as I do that we’ve seen each other naked enough times that it doesn’t even have to matter.”

John shook his head. “No, Paul. I’m different now.” As much as he tried, the bassist couldn’t seem to understand, only staring at the tears as they ran down his friend’s face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Leave, please,” he cried, covering his face again. “I’m fucking fat, and you don’t deserve to see me like this.”

Suddenly, it all made sense, and Paul couldn’t help but put a hand on the man’s face. “Oh, John… Oh, love, you’re not fat. You’re beautiful. Is this about that paper?”

“No! This isn’t about the bloody paper, Paul! This is fucking reality!” He stood up and turned the shower on, watching as it resaturated the suit sitting on top of the drain. 

“John, what are you on about? What did that bloody suit do to you?” He rushed to turn off the shower as to not waste too much water.

“It’s ugly on me. It makes me look like a fucking whale, and I don’t want the public seeing me like that! It’s embarrassing!”

Paul felt as sympathy ran through his heart. “Oh, sweetie… look at me, please, John.” When John didn’t look at him, Paul stood and put his arms around his waist. “John.”

“Please leave, Macca. Or let me get dressed.” Paul stepped away from him.

“You can get dressed.”

He did pull his shirt back over his stomach and started to pull his pants up, but as he buttoned them, he screamed, scaring Paul.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, what’s up?” 

John only huffed, pulling his shirt up. “Look at this shit. I can’t even button my pants, Paul!” When more tears started to rush down his cheeks, Paul hugged him.

“Johnny,” he whispered into the older man’s neck. “Just calm down, okay? Look, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath.” John breathed in slowly, and a smile crept up on Paul’s face. He pulled away from the hug and buttoned John’s pants. “Look at that. All buttoned up, yeah? You just have to focus a little harder, okay?”

“This is so embarrassing.” He craned his neck to look in the mirror, and when Paul saw that he was staring at his body next to Paul’s, he turned his head back to look at him. “You’re so skinny, Macca.”

“No, John. Don’t do this. You know that we’re the same size. You’re just looking at yourself differently.”

“No, Paul. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Paul shook his head, starting to undo John’s pants. “What are you doing? Don’t undo those!”

But Paul didn’t stop, and John didn’t try to stop him. He let the bassist pull at them until they fell to the ground, and he stepped out of them. Paul picked them up and examined the tag until he found what he wanted. He turned it so that John could see.

“Alright, Johnny. What size are these?” 

John huffed. “Stop it. You’re being rude. You’re just proving my point.” Paul said nothing more, so John eventually gave in. It took him a few minutes, but he found it. “33.”

Then, Paul started to pull off his own pants, ignoring the strange glances he was getting from John. He held up the tag to John without even looking at it, and John only stared. Paul was starting to get worried that it was significantly different by the way John started to tear up. “W-what does it say, John?” he asked quietly, bracing himself for an answer.

“33.” Then a smile appeared on John’s face, and he hugged Paul. The silence that overtook them both was enough to calm John down. “I love you, Macca. So much.”

“I love you, too, Johnny. Now what do you say we go get Brian to deal with this,” he motioned to the suit still in the tub, wadded up. “Because I don’t really want to.”

John laughed. “Me neither, but maybe we should put our pants on first.”

“Good idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> After AP tests, I have next to nothing to do, so feel free to leave any type of requests :)


End file.
